


Have Yourself a Tacky Little Christmas

by lydiamrtin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiamrtin/pseuds/lydiamrtin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Scott, there’s still one more under the tree for you.” <br/>“I can see that, Stiles.” </p><p>Stiles gets Scott a tacky Christmas sweater. Fluff ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have Yourself a Tacky Little Christmas

“Scott, there’s still one more under the tree for you.” 

“I can see that, Stiles.” 

Before Scott has the chance to begrudgingly pull himself from his comfortable position on the couch, Stiles leaps up and dashes to the tree, snatching the poorly wrapped present and practically throwing it on Scott’s lap, grinning animatedly. 

“It’s soft.” Scott shakes it. “And light. Stiles, you really outdid yourself this time. I thought we already had a talk about too big or expensive gifts.” 

“Hey!” Stiles protests as Scott kisses him on the forehead in apology. 

“I’m only teasing, I’m sure whatever it is I’ll love it. I’m very grateful.” 

Scott then proceeds to tear apart the wrapping and pull open the paper box. His smile fades. 

“It’s an . . . oversized tacky Christmas sweater.” 

“I  _ know!”  _ Stiles gushes. “And  _ don’t  _ give me that look; you’re wearing it today whether you like it or not.” 

“Really,” Scott deadpans. “And how are you going to make me do that?” 

“I won’t let you have sex with me until you put it on.” 

“Blackmail . . .” Scott leans forward, placing his hands on Stiles’ waist, holding him there, “is not the steadiest foundation to base our relationship upon,” Scott whispers against his lips. 

“Uh, uh, uh.” Stiles leans his head back. “You don’t even get to  _ kiss  _ me until you wear it. And you can use any wolfy tactics you want, I’ll be damned if that stops me. I will not give consent until you put on that  _ fucking  _ sweater.” 

“You underestimate my powers.”

“And  _ you _ underestimate my willpower.” 

“Well, if you want me to so badly . . .” Scott pulls off his polo shirt, exposing his tan, toned torso. Stiles doesn’t realize he’s ogling until-   
“Stiles. We’re dating, and we’re alone. You’re allowed to stare.” 

“I think I’m reconsidering this whole sweater thing,” he says, and Scott laughs. 

“My abs can be very persuasive,” he quips. “But, Stiles, why did you get me a _tacky_ _Christmas sweater?”_

“Because I know how much you hate sweaters, which is insane considering you look  _ amazing  _ in them, and  _ damnit  _ I’ve always imagined how fuckable and sexy you’d look in one-”

_ “Sexy?”  _ echoes Scott. “Stiles, I think you need to reevaluate your definition of the word ‘sexy-’”

“C’mon,  _ please?  _ For me?”

“Fine,” Scott huffs, pulling the sweater over his head. He spends a moment fiddling with the fuzzy sleeves before Stiles is reduced to a mess of “Fuck, you look-”s and flailing limbs as he leans forward to crash his mouth against Scott’s. 

Scott groans the moment Stiles’ lips connect with his, and his hands are everywhere, stroking his ribs, his thighs, pressing him closer, closer. Scott’s lips trail along Stiles’ cheek, his jaw, to his neck, where Scott inhales the sweetness and familiarity of his scent and bites and licks gently at the pale skin. Stiles gasps softly, his hands finding solace in Scott’s hair and his lips mouthing silent strands of “Fuck”s into Scott’s temple. 

“Shit, Stiles . . .” Scott murmurs, resting his forehead against Stiles’. 

“Scott, c-can we-” Stiles manages between breaths. 

_ “God,  _ I . . . Babe, we can’t. We gotta go drive up to see your dad soon, we don’t have all day. But I  _ promise  _ I’ll make it up to you when we get back tonight,” Scott closes his eyes, “when we can take our time and I can lay you down and fuck you right.” 

“Fucking hell,  _ Scott,”  _ Stiles breathes. “You can’t just- You can’t just  _ say  _ things like that, you-”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it, you little shit.” 

They kiss lazily for a while, calming down and holding back because they both know that Scott fully intends to keep his promise. 

And he does. Several times. And in several different positions. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment, I love feedback! :) Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://lydiamrtun.tumblr.com)


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